


the ocean held everything, and tossed aside the weary

by aconissa



Category: Dark Matter - Michelle Paver
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Like In The Book, Love Confessions, M/M, POV First Person, Sharing a Bed, Spooky, we pity the ghost in this arctic shack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconissa/pseuds/aconissa
Summary: Instead of Gus getting appendicitis, Algie gets injured and leaves Gus and Jack alone on Gruhuken.Well, nottotallyalone.
Relationships: Gus Balfour/Jack Miller
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	the ocean held everything, and tossed aside the weary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adsecula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adsecula/gifts).



> Did someone say 'arctic bedsharing for warmth'? No? Well too bad.
> 
> My gift to [pileofsith](http://pileofsith.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for the 2019 Dark Matter gift exchange!
> 
> I had uni deadlines this month so this was a little rushed, but I definitely plan on writing more fic about these boys. I loved trying to get in Jack's head too much to never go back.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [aconissa](http://aconissa.tumblr.com/). I also made a Dark Matter fanmix on spotify while writing this, [which you can listen to here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/29kSoFtLxFsPLZzbG1pIId?si=ELPPSeY2TNWkQPC2juELdA) The title is from one of the songs on the playlist, 'That Sea, The Gambler' by Gregory Alan Isakov

**19 th October 1937**

I almost lost my chance. I almost lost him.

After Algie and I got back from sledding I had convinced myself that I would tell him everything in the morning. Maybe I couldn’t trust him not to tell Gus too, but I could bear that. Gus would be kind, even if Algie thought I was mad.

But then Algie had to go and be an idiot and break his leg. After how skilfully he had led the dogs the day before, I had started to really appreciate him being here. Started to respect how good he was with them. Only for that to be totally ruined by him trying some stupid manoeuvres and getting thrown clean off.

I know I should be more sympathetic, but I’m so bloody angry at him. _Idiot_. What right does he have to be so reckless and put the whole expedition in jeopardy? It was worse than Hugo’s fall, but not enough for me to really worry about him. Through gritted teeth he made some bad joke about the expedition being jinxed again, but after catching the look on my face he quickly shut up. I could tell Gus was frustrated, but he was also worried enough about his friend that I don’t think Algie noticed.

He spent some time trying to patch Algie up the best he could while I got in contact with a doctor at Longyearbyen. They agreed to send someone out and see him as quickly as possible, which was a relief. We don't have the medical supplies or training to deal with a leg broken in more than one place, which Gus suspects is the case.

After giving Algie some morphine and letting him rest, Gus pulled me to the other side of the room and spoke quietly.

‘I don’t think he’s in serious danger, but he can’t stay here.’

I nodded. ‘He’d be better off going back to Longyearbyen and recuperating. Not much he can do here, lying in his bunk all day with us waiting on him hand and foot.’

Gus gave me a stern look, but didn’t bother telling me off. He knew I was right. ‘What worries me is whether we should let him go alone.’

I was suddenly angry. ‘You don’t believe his bloody jinx, do you? We can’t just abandon the expedition for him. I could stay here alone while you went, but why would I need to? You and I can keep this going perfectly well, better than I would alone, and Algie can rest up in Longyearbyen through the winter. Then he can join us here, or go home, I don’t care. But he’s not ending this for us.’

Gus put a hand on my arm to calm me down. ‘Steady on there, Jack. I’m inclined to agree, but I want to ask the doctor all the same.’ His voice softened, and he didn’t meet my eyes. ‘I have to make sure he’s taken care of.’

I remembered then that he and Algie had been friends since they were boys. _God_ Jack, you can be an inconsiderate ass.

I could tell Gus was embarrassed, and so was I. I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking. ‘Okay,’ I said.

His eyes rested on Algie’s form lying across the room, but his mouth drew up into a smile. ‘Okay.’

**22 nd October 1937**

The doctor’s been and gone, and Algie with him. He confirmed that Algie had broken his leg in two places, and he wanted to keep him under his care so he could monitor the healing. Thankfully he said that he would be able to deal with things himself, and wire us updates. Gus wouldn’t have to go anywhere. He’d stay with me.

I knew I was being selfish, so I tried my best to suppress my relief around Gus. I was happy for Algie too, of course. Happy that the doctor thought he would be alright.

Besides the pain, he didn’t seem overly disappointed to be heading back to Longyearbyen. Maybe two and a half months on Gruhuken had been enough adventure for him.

Or maybe he was just relieved to be getting away from it.

That’s the one thing I’ve managed not to think about since Algie was injured. The figure, ghost, whatever I saw. Now Algie has left, right after I had convinced myself to finally say something to him. And Gus and I have already been alone together half a day, but I can’t get the courage up to tell him. We’ve barely talked at all since the boat left.

It’s not that things are awkward between us, but everything feels more exposed somehow. Like without Algie here to see us, to interject into our conversations, to be our shared source of exasperated glances, everything has more meaning.

I could say almost anything to Gus, and that scares me. For some reason it scares me into saying nothing.

**24 th October 1937**

We heard from Algie in Longyearbyen today – he's settled in and resting, and I think he’s bored already. But apparently the doctor’s lent him plenty of books and his girlfriend has been wiring him from England, so he has enough to distract him. I’m glad he’s alright.

We’ve set up our own routine without him, and we’re managing okay. Maybe we were just in a strange mood after he left, because a day went by and things are back to normal between us. We got through the readings and transmissions, breaking up or sharing our jobs where necessary, speaking companionably all the while. It’s comfortable.

There was just a strange moment when I was walking back after clearing out the Stevenson screen. Suddenly I imagined I would reach the hut to find it lightless and cold, totally empty. I would go inside to find that Gus had gone after all, and he had left me here. Alone.

Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me or some lingering reminder of what I saw on the rocks. Either way, it scared me. It feels ridiculous to even say that, but it did. I started running back, stupidly, because I managed to slip on an ice patch and almost fell over.

When I got inside to the sound and smell of Gus cooking, I almost laughed in relief. At first I was too glad to see him to feel stupid for letting that get to me.

He asked me why I kept smiling over lunch, so I made up some story about Isaak. He looked bemused, but he smiled too all the same.

**Later**

We were listening to the wireless when Gus asked me what I was reading. He’d been lying on his bunk and thinking, his book forgotten on the floor. He seemed restless.

When I told him it was one of my physics periodicals, he asked that I explain it to him.

I’d been reading that article on ‘dark matter’ again, trying to get my head around it. When I told him what the astronomer had written, he sat up and looked at me. ‘What do you think?’

I shrugged. ‘People seem to be dismissing the idea. I’m not sure if I believe it really – I don’t know enough to decide. Though I don’t like it.’

He nodded for me to explain. ‘Maybe it’s not quite what he’s saying.’ I swallowed. ‘It’s more the idea that there may be so much around us that we don’t know about. That we don’t see. Or don’t _always_ see.’

He was quiet, and I had trouble meeting his eye. This was the closest I had come to mentioning the figure on the beach, but I didn’t want to say more. It felt like if I said more then I would conjure it, somehow.

A few moments passed, and I barely breathed.

‘I don’t like that idea either,’ he said. I looked up and caught his eye – he was looking at me carefully, almost like he was assessing me.

Does he know something? I’m not sure. Maybe he could just tell that I wasn’t telling him something, but I’m not ready yet. I thought I would be, but now I’m scared that I’ll tell him and he won’t know what I’m talking about. That he’ll regret staying here with me. What if he wonders if he chose to run this expedition alone with a crazy man? I couldn’t handle that.

I don’t understand why I care about his opinion so much, but I do. When we started this journey I told myself that I would work hard and I wouldn’t compromise who I was, not for this lot. But somehow I stopped seeing him as one of them a long time ago. He just become Gus in my head – not the Honourable Augustus Balfour, not the expedition leader, not the hero from the Boy’s Own Paper – just ~~my~~ Gus.

Is this what it’s like to have a brother? Or a best friend? It’s confusing. I don’t quite know what I mean.

**27 th October 1937**

The snow is thick outside, totally undisturbed. Beyond our cabin, everything is silent and still. Peaceful, almost.

This is the first time I’ve been able to write in days. I tried to do it so many times, I just didn’t feel capable of it. But I need to now, for my sake, and for Gus.

I woke up three days ago to Gus making breakfast. It was surprisingly warm – I remembered that detail so well during what came later.

He had already done the first readings and transmissions, he’d let me sleep through all that. I told him he was an idiot for not waking me up, and I was surprised when he looked a bit embarrassed.

‘I thought you needed the rest. You were moving around a lot in your sleep. Muttering things.’

I could feel my face flush, so I just thanked him and started setting out plates for food. I’ve never talked in my sleep before. Or rather, I probably have, but when you spend so many years alone there’s no one there to tell you. I just hoped I hadn’t said anything embarrassing.

We made a plan for the day. We’d take the dogs out for a walk together after breakfast, do the next round of readings and transmissions, and the weekly dispatch back to England.

I was glad to get out together. I was trying not to worry about what I’d said in the night, and some time in the cold with the dogs would calm me down.

Isaak bounded over to me when we opened the dog house door, wagging his tail frantically. It really hit me then how wonderfully handsome he is. Wolf colouring and bright blue eyes, he’d probably look fearsome if I didn’t know better.

I bent down and rubbed the back of his ears, grinning at him. Gus laughed at us.

‘Algie said you shouldn’t favour him in front of the others, but I don’t think anything’s going to stop either of you now, is it?’

I was still bent down by Isaak, who was making his croaky ror-ror-ror noises. ‘We’re a team now, I think. He’s got to me.’

Gus reached out and let Isaak sniff his hand, before he was scratching an ear too. Isaak’s eyes closed, and I laughed at how happy he looked. ‘Ridiculous dog,’ I said. ‘So much for looking like a wolf. You’ll be a cat soon enough!’

We let the dogs run free on the beach with us, so they could exercise properly. It was indulgent but we didn’t care, it just felt good to see them running around us.

We had wandered over to the cliffs when Gus stopped me and pointed excitedly. I could see something white and round moving near the rocks, and I realised with a start that it was a bird.

‘It’s a ptarmigan!’ I could head the smile in his voice. ‘It’s one of the only birds that stays up here in the winter. He’s so round, you can see how he survives the cold.’

I laughed a little, partly at Gus’s excitement – he was grinning like a schoolboy – and the sight of the little fat bird scrambling among the rocks. ‘Better hope the dogs don’t come this way and sniff him out.’

Gus and I watched the little bird a while longer, although I mostly watched him. I could practically see him reciting notes to put in his expedition log later.

We let the dogs run around until 11, then Gus went back in to write his dispatch for _The Times_ and I went over to check the Stevenson screen.

We shouldn’t have separated.

It had started to snow, and by then the wind had picked up enough that it blew into strange shapes and flurries around me. I couldn’t see very well, but I knew the path to the screen and I thought getting back would be fine with the light on in the cabin.

And really, it _was_ fine. It wasn’t finding my way back that was the problem.

When I was only 50 yards from the cabin, I saw it. There was a figure standing by the bear post. Totally still. One shoulder higher than the other.

My skin ran cold and it felt like my heart had stopped. It was so close, and it was turned towards me. I couldn’t see its face in the snow, but I knew we were looking right at one another.

The wind was suddenly so much louder, and it felt like the temperature had dropped. I couldn’t breathe. It was right there, and Gus was just yards away. Closer to it than I was, but with walls and warmth between them.

I was too shocked to even think about what to do next, and then it took a slow, graceless step towards me.

I had to get to Gus, but all I wanted to do was run. Scramble as far away as possible. My heart was pounding and then it was taking its next step and I bolted for the door, calling Gus’s name.

I tried running in an arc, keeping as much distance between me and it until I got closer to the cabin and had to pass within its reach.

It turned towards me, and I could feel the creeping cold as we got closer. I couldn’t look at it as I scrambled to open the door with my gloved hands.

I could smell it now. Rust and paraffin and decay. _How_ could I smell it? How could it have substance enough for that?

I could feel its fury beating against my back, anger and pain spilling towards me like oil fumes.

‘GUS! GUS!’ I couldn’t stop saying his name. The door finally gave and I fell inside, but I suppose Gus must have heard me over the wind because he had opened the door to the hall too. The wind burst through the cabin in seconds and it was like the heat had been sucked out. The light from down the hall went out. I scrambled up and looked at Gus, standing there in his undershirt and holding the door, pale and staring at something just behind me.

Without looking I was kicking the door shut and running for Gus, pushing him into the freezing hall and shutting that door too. The wind was howling now and I was trying desperately not to think about the dull, wet _thud_ I had heard as the first door closed.

‘Jack – God, Jack-’ Gus was grasping my forearm tight as we fell into the bunk room, his eyes wild.

We sat on the floor and I held Gus by the shoulders, breathing hard but never breaking his gaze. I needed to see him then or I felt like I’d go mad.

‘Did you see it?’ I asked, my voice hoarse. I knew he had, but I had to hear it. Gus was nodding, though it looked more like he was shaking, and I realised how cold it was. We had broken Eriksson’s rule, and now it was almost as cold inside the cabin as it was out.

I stood up and pulled Gus towards one of the bunks, bundling him in some of the blankets while I lit the stove. He was shivering hard, so I took more blankets from the bunk above before taking off my overcoat and draping it over us both.

His teeth were chattering but he grasped my arms as I lay next to him, staring at me. ‘I’ve… s-seen it b-before,’ he said, ‘out in t-the boat. Thought I was hallucinating.’

I nodded, trying not to wince as his cold fingers brushed my own. ‘So did I. The day the _Isbjørn_ left, and by the cliffs before Algie’s fall.’

‘I didn’t think- Algie felt it too, we thought you were too practical, you hadn’t seen it-’

‘Algie saw it too?’

Gus nodded again. He was shaking less now, and his eyes looked sadder than before. ‘I should have told you. Jack – I’m sorry, God, it was so close to you.’

I shook my head. ‘I didn’t want to tell you either. I thought you’d think I was… well. I don’t know what I am. If you saw it too then we can’t both be going mad.’

He gave a small, slightly hysterical laugh. He looked like he was fighting hard not to cry. We were so close, I could feel the hitch in his next breath. Without thinking I moved closer, and he moved with me until our arms were around each other.

My face was pressed against his shoulder. It was like I suddenly felt _everything_ that had just happened in one burst and I was the one crying, taking great gasping breaths as we clung to one another. My tears were slowly soaking into his shirt.

It had been so close to me. What if it had gotten inside? What if it had gotten to Gus?

His warm breath brushed past my ear, and I realised he was whispering my name over and over. He was so close, and I hadn’t known how much I had wanted this. I wondered for a second if it was just my body desperately clinging to whatever heat it could get in the freezing room, but I understood then that it was more than that.

Only minutes had passed, but my thoughts were rushing like the wind outside. Everything was becoming so much clearer and my heart hurt from the strain of it.

When I had calmed a bit, I lifted my head up and caught his eye. He looked dazed, and I was scared suddenly that he would realise what we were doing and push me away.

‘Gus – is this…’

He gripped me harder, as if to hold me there. ‘It’s fine, don’t – please don’t leave.’

The desperate note in his voice made me pause. ‘I promise I won’t.’

He nodded and closed his eyes. His hand was on my neck now, and he pulled me closer so our foreheads touched. I let my eyes drift shut too. ‘We should go,’ I said after a few moments. ‘Contact Algie on Longyearbyen and have him send Eriksson back. We can’t stay with that – whatever it is.’

‘Yes.’ He breathed slowly, carefully. A few seconds past. ‘I looked into its eyes,’ he said. A shiver ran through me, but I didn’t interrupt.

‘It was dark, but from what I could see… it was so desolate. I’ve never seen loneliness like that. It must be the saddest creature in all the world.’

‘What do you think it is?’ I asked.

‘A man, once. Something terrible happened here. I think… maybe the old hut grounded it. And now we’re encroaching on its home.’

‘You sound almost sorry for it.’

Instead of nodding, he pressed his forehead harder against mine. ‘It’s eyes Jack – you didn’t see. If you had then you would too.’

I didn’t reply, and we stayed like that until we each drifted off to sleep.

I realise now that it’s probably stupid to record what I’m about to write, in case anyone ever reads this journal, but I need to.

When I woke a few hours later, Gus’s arms were heavy and warm around me. His face was right next to mine on the pillow. The shock of seeing him so close made me gasp, and he opened his eyes. I stared into them, and they were so very blue.

‘Gus-’ I started to say, but then he was pulling me forward and his lips were on mine.

God, Gus. I wish I had known you felt this way sooner.

Our lips were dry at first, but we didn't stop. Even now I don’t know how long we went without speaking. I was pouring all my newfound love into those kisses, holding him tight against me as if each passing second could rip him away.

The first thing he said was my name, and for a while he didn’t say anything else.

**27 th October 1937**

Eriksson is on his way, or so Algie promised us. We couldn’t explain to him why we needed to leave, but I think he guessed. We may still be here for another day yet, depending on how fast they got the _Isbjørn_ ready. We’re being careful until then.

I can’t stop reading over what I wrote. It’s been two days since it happened, and we’ve talked. I’ve never felt this way before. I think Gus is confused too. But it’s good – better than that, it’s wonderful. Like a great weight has been thrown aside and now we can speak freely about anything. I can be near him. I can touch him.

We don’t know what we’ll do if we manage to get away. Maybe stay in Longyearbyen for a while. I have no idea how we’ll explain the expedition being abandoned like this, but we’ll have to come up with something. We know we can’t stay here.

Gus is reading this over my shoulder. I showed him my journal last night, and I found out his expedition log was more than just that too. Some of the things he wrote about me made me blush red, but not without pleasure.

It frustrates me that I didn’t just tell him and Algie about the figure straight away, but at least I know Gus was feeling the same way. In every sense.

**Later**

I can hear Eriksson issuing orders to his men by the rowboat outside. Gus is packing the last of our things. We’re finally leaving this terrible, lonely, beautiful place.

I don’t know what will happen next, but I am glad to be leaving. I can’t be sorry we ever came to Gruhuken, but I am sorry we disturbed whoever haunts it.

I hope in our absence, you find some peace.


End file.
